


Son Of The Blue Sky

by TheCyrulik



Category: (Yet) - Fandom, No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Angst, Blood Drinking, Character Death, Fear of Death, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, In a way, Somewhere in Silesia probably, Stranger in the woods, Unspecified medieval setting, Vampire Feeding, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:42:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21539194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCyrulik/pseuds/TheCyrulik
Summary: An old man makes a strange friend in his travels, learns a lot and finds something he was looking for his whole life. His strange friend also learns a thing or two about humans. There's some blood and some questions about good, evil and nature of humanity. There's a character death, but it's a nice one.
Relationships: Greg | Grzegorz Sikora (Male OC) & Hanel (Male OC)
Kudos: 2





	Son Of The Blue Sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AfroSarah](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=AfroSarah).



The evening was bright and calm. Hanel was walking the trail, lost in cheerful musings. Any moment now, a village should appear before him. He’d lie under the tavern wall or even inside it, if the owner turns out to be a good soul. Spending the night outside in the woods could prove fatal for him, because even though the weather was pleasant during the day, at night freeze could come, so he was counting on the goodwill of the innkeeper or any other villager.

Hanel was by nature a kind of a man who believed in good. He was convinced good people do mostly good deeds, and bad people do good when encouraged properly. In spite of many previous experiences indicating otherwise, such as his lame leg, a couple of nasty scars, an empty stomach and ragged clothes on his back, he still kept to that belief. Do good – his philosophy was saying – or at least try not to do evil, and the world will not be cruel towards you either.

It was late and the vagrant’s eyes were not the best. It wasn’t surprising, then, that he only noticed a dark figure sitting under a linden by the road, when said figure moved anxiously, hearing the sound of Hanel’s birch staff knocking on the rocks. The vagrant approached slowly – he might have been trusting, but usually not to the point of being stupid. The figure moved again.

“Hello, friend! Are you alright?”, he said, still approaching carefully. The figure stood up quickly and in a second Hanel stood face to face with an average-sized, stocky man. The moon and the cloudless sky of the late evening allowed him to notice the grim weariness painted on his face, for a moment replaced with slight interest and then returned to his previous expression.

“Oh, absolutely.”

Hanel didn’t expect the man to have such a voice – deep, low and rich, making him shiver with just a word. He saw clearly the stranger had already lived through the best years of his life, just as he had. Time was much gentler with him, though. Well, Hanel thought, having a roof over one’s head is certainly an advantage when one wants to seem younger.

“It’s neither a good time nor place for naps”, noticed the vagrant. The stranger laughed, shortly and quite heartily.

“Oh, I’m quite aware. It’s just that I’ve been walking for so long and the afternoon was so nice and warm that I decided to take a short nap by the trail. It seems I’ve been sleeping unexpectedly well,” said the man, brushing dirt and leaves off his clothes, then he looked up and examined the clear evening sky.

“A beautiful night to be sure, but quite dangerous. I’m glad you have woken me up, good man. It’s best to get going soon. Where are you headed, dear traveller?”

“To the nearest village; I believe it’s somewhere around here. And where to in the morning, I don’t know yet. Forward, I suppose.”

“Does it mean you don’t know this neighbourhood? Allow me to show you the way; I’m also heading that way and at night, it’s better to have friendly company when walking in the woods”, said the man in a friendly manner. He didn’t wait for the vagrant’s response and got on the road. Without thinking much, Hanel followed his new companion.

“So, where are you coming from, friend?”, the man asked as soon as the vagrant caught up to him, helping himself with his birch staff. When he noticed Hanel’s limping, he slowed down in consideration.

“Nowhere. Or everywhere, I suppose. Wherever there are good people, I feel at home”

The stranger nodded in agreement.

“Such life surely abounds with many interesting adventures, does it not?”

“That’s true”, said Hanel carefully. The stranger was obviously right, but the vagrant knew all too well how people tended to react to his stories. To his immense disappointment, he was a poor storyteller. He had experienced so many interesting situations and had seen three times as many, but he never had the ability to put those stories into words that would catch the listener’s attention. That’s why he decided to stay quiet, so as not to bore his friendly travelling companion to death. The stranger didn’t feel discouraged and asked:

“What has happened to you recently? Please, I’d love to hear it. The village isn’t far from here, but time passes faster and more pleasant when it’s accompanied by a fascinating story.”

Hanel raised his eyebrows in surprise. The stranger seemed to be actually interested in what he had to say; the request didn’t sound like a mere courtesy. He didn’t want to disappoint his new friend, but refusing him seemed like a rude thing to do. Besides, there was an aura of friendliness and curiosity that emanated from the stranger and it made it almost impossible to say “no”. _What the hell_ , he figured. _Might as well start and ask him if he wants to walk in silence as soon as I see his boredom, so he won’t have to admit I’m as dull as ditchwater._

And so Hanel started his story. He talked about what he saw on his way, about strange events he was a participant of and a witness to, and about people he met on the trail. Ah yes, the people. People were important, the most important part of it all. The world was beautiful just as it was, but people were its salt. They were the same everywhere he went, but at the same time so unique and equally interesting. The vagrant had seen much pain and suffering caused by people over the years, but in his eyes, a simple friendly gesture from a peasant on the way cancelled out all the wretchedness of humankind. The main cause of evil in people, Hanel tried to convince his companion, was fear. And the vagrant knew and understood fear; he was no stranger to it, he couldn’t be, living like this all his life, wandering around the world in the wilderness.

He didn’t notice the moment he stopped talking about his adventures and began presenting his worldview to this stranger who, surprisingly, didn’t protest even once. Oddly enough, he nodded his head in approval from time to time, as if what Hanel said did indeed make sense, when the vagrant himself was sure it couldn’t have had any value to this strange man, given that he was obviously smarter and better educated than Hanel. The man should have ridiculed him and called him an old, boring fool – Hanel wouldn’t be offended, as the man would certainly be right.

And yet the stranger listened carefully to the vagrant’s words, sometimes asking him a question that never failed to surprise Hanel and force him to think about his ideology deeply.

“What do you mean by saying only good people have doubts? Are the evil people always sure?”, the man asked once.

“No, it’s not like that”, said Hanel. “My point is”, he desperately tried to get his words right, so as not to be laughed at by his wiser companion, “that evil people don’t wonder if they’re evil. They either know it or not. And if someone’s wondering, they’re almost always a good person. They just do bad things sometimes”.

The stranger saddened, and Hanel felt something strange. This aura of friendliness that radiated from the man, and which encouraged him to open up and tell his stories, disappeared for a moment. Underneath it, the vagrant sensed neither hostility nor straight evil, but he did notice something that disturbed him. Some sort of pain or bitterness, along with a strange need or hunger that seemed to be impossible to fully sate. However, after a short moment, the feeling passed and Hanel kept on walking slowly though relentlessly, immersed in the simple joy of having the company that understood his worldview. He attempted to persuade the stranger to share his observations and ideas, but he seemed much more interested in listening than speaking. Hanel kept going then, even though that pleasant feeling of warmth, friendliness and safety in his heart had begun, ironically, to disturb him a little. He didn’t want to deprive the stranger of apparent pleasure he found in listening to the vagrant’s talking, but the more he talked, the more worried he became.

He couldn’t focus fully on answering his companion’s multiple questions and trying to put a finger on the source of his unease at the same time. His answers became shorter and simpler even though he didn’t do it on purpose. Was the village really that far away? He was there once or twice before, but it was some time ago, so he had every right not to remember the details, but there was something in the back of his mind that kept him anxious.

“Friend, is everything alright?”, the stranger asked when Hanel kept silent for some time.

“Yes, of course”, said the old vagrant, trying to sound relaxed. “It’s just that I’m parched. Maybe you can tell me something now?”

Hanel’s companion gave him a strangely thoughtful look and nodded.

“Naturally. I apologise if I abused your kindness. I’ll do my best to repay it.”

The stranger turned out to be an even better speaker than a listener. Apparently, he was well-educated in stars, healing and poisonous plants, horse breeding, traditions and customs of neighbouring countries and even maritime trading. Hanel stayed on the trail only physically, for he followed his learned companion in a journey through the sky and the earth. Only a small fraction of his mind still wondered where did those tiny signals of danger come from and how come he could ignore them so easily.

“Why does the sky look the same every year, then, if you’re saying the stars are dying?”, he asked, both out of curiosity and to examine the stranger’s reaction.

“How come anyone came up with the idea of opening a man’s skull? The whole act is so unnatural and doesn’t seem like it would help at all”, he said another time.

With every answer he was getting closer until he came to a point when blood in his veins froze momentarily. The feeling passed as soon as it came, and Hanel felt warmth, peace and safety again, even though he now knew he shouldn’t have. He asked himself a question and answered it immediately – yes, he did feel it from the very beginning of their journey, although it wasn’t as strong then. Now he knew where did it all come from. In a way, it comforted him. He could have been, and more importantly, should have been dying of fear right now. It was better the way it was. A thought flashed through his mind – maybe he could do something to save himself? The thought disappeared as soon as it appeared; even if he weren’t lame and old, he still wouldn’t stand a chance.

Hanel took a deep breath as if it was to be his last one. He voicelessly uttered a short prayer to the gods and ceased his fighting against the stranger’s magic for good. Ah well, he thought. He expected that surrender to be a little harder thing to do, but it turned out to be incredibly easy to just give in. It was a pleasant thing to focus once again on the deep, low voice of the man walking by his side and describing in detail the perils of living in the desert.

The next minutes were the calmest in Hanel’s life. A long time ago he had decided he wasn’t afraid of death and he would face it with courage when it finally came. Right now he was pleased to see he was not mistaken in his own heart’s judgement. Although he had to admit he didn’t expect “facing death” to be so literal. He tried to sneak a peek at the stranger but didn’t succeed out of worry it would speed things up. Instead, he kept his eyes pinned to the dark path in front of them and kept on listening to the voice of his soon-to-be killer.

It seemed the stranger was ready to walk and talk about life until dawn or maybe longer. Hanel, on the other hand, felt the fatigue growing in him, even if fear was pretty much absent from his heart. Finally, he made a decision and stopped in the middle of the path. He looked deep into the dark forest so as not to look into the stranger’s face, who immediately noticed the vagrant stopped. He stood by Hanel’s side quietly, also looking at something in the woods. Hanel felt the haze of security and calm rise and his mind clear noticeably. Immediately his heart was filled paralyzing fear.

“No! Turn it back!”, he screamed and cowered in pain and terror.

The haze returned quickly and Hanel was able to breathe a sigh of relief. Once again he was wrapped in the feeling of peace and contentment, though now he had the ultimate proof. It was no paranoia; his companion really wasn’t human.

“How long have you known?”, asked the stranger gently.

“Some time. I’ve been in this area before. I remember it well enough to realize we weren’t going to the village, but into the depths of the forest.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I just wanted to know more about those people living in houses made of ice”, said Hanel, resting his body’s weight on his birch staff.

“I would have gladly told you anyway if you asked. In fact, I still can. We have time, there’s no need to hurry”, said the stranger. The vagrant heard or maybe just felt him smiling widely and sincerely. Hanel still didn’t feel any hostility or cruelty from him, but the flash of his white teeth, somehow visible in the darkness of the night, made him shudder.

“I’d like that, but… I don’t think I can endure it all much longer. I am exhausted already.”

“I wouldn’t like you to feel you’re being hurried”, said the bloodsucker.

“You wasted a big part of the night on me already. Doesn’t that loss worry you?”

“I wouldn’t call it a waste. Besides, I have all the time in the world”

Hanel looked up, still leaning on the staff. There was no trace of evening sun in the sky, but the full moon illuminated two figures on an empty path.

“My name is Hanel. I once met a scholar who told me my name means _heaven_ ”, he blurted out. After a second, he added lamely:

“I have no idea why I’m telling you this”.

“The scholar was correct. _Haneil_ means sky, heaven or someone from there. Obviously, it’s a word from a language long dead”.

“Hmm”.

They both fell silent. The vampire waited patiently for Hanel to ask the question that had been going on in his mind for quite some time.

“You won’t be very mean to me, will you?” The old vagrant’s voice was calm and almost emotionless.

“I won’t be mean at all. It’s not something I’m in the habit of doing, and certainly not towards my friends.”

“I’m not sure a man you meet with the intention of killing can be called a friend”.

“Perhaps not when you’re a mortal,” admitted the vampire.

Completely without any indication beforehand, so as not to give himself the opportunity to retreat, Hanel raised his head and looked straight into his companion’s eyes. Almost immediately he felt the power of the same blissful calmness and safety he had been feeling throughout their journey hit him twice as hard. Dark eyes, the colour of which was brought up by low-set black brows, stared at him with serenity and respect.

***

The human initiated eye contact he had been avoiding the whole way. Considering his overall behaviour, he was surely aware of the consequences of this act. The vampire didn’t stall and, just as promised, wasn’t mean at all. As soon as Hanel got under the influence of his charm, he stepped close and grabbed him gently by the neck. The man twitched a little as fangs pierced his neck, then froze, letting the vampire worry about keeping them both upright. With the vagrant’s blood he absorbed his last thoughts and feelings. With time he learned the man did not fully believe in his stories, even though every single one of them was true, and he was disappointed even such an old and powerful creature like himself could be fooled into believing in such nonsense as glowing balls of ice flying in the night sky.

The purity of that thought made the vampire chuckle, so he stroked the now half-conscious man’s hair with tenderness. He noted with content his victim wasn’t afraid nor did he feel any pain. A thought flashed through Hanel’s mind: _I’m so glad I told him my name_ , then his mind fell silent in the vampire’s head. He still felt the human’s heartbeat for a moment, then slow down and stop eventually.

He took the body and carried it deeper into the woods. For a moment he wandered in search of a suitable place. Finally, he laid the vagrant’s body on a patch of moss next to a fallen tree trunk. He placed his last kiss of thanks on the human’s forehead, then headed back to his lair.

Years ago, when he was a newly turned immortal, he was sure a hundred year would be enough to become indifferent to people and their philosophies. Now he knew even half a century might not help with that.

On the other hand, he didn’t want it to, all things considered.

**Author's Note:**

> A short story for AfroSarah, featuring her OC Greg, a good guy and a lovely husband material (not really but he tries, usually). Hanel is a one time only OC, unless an idea appears to me in my dream.


End file.
